Red
by Il-Salai
Summary: How The Iron Bull met Samil Lavellan for the first time. Samil is not the usual kind of elf and left quite the impression. Warning: might be gory. Mention of blood (no character death or mutilation. Just some battle or hunt related stuff... and mention of a heart). Don't read if you're triggered by blood! Short story based on a headcanon (one of many).
1. Heart

**Red**

Warning: might be gore-y. Mention of blood (no character death or mutilation. Just some battle or hunt related stuff).

 **1: Heart**

The Iron Bull set down his battleaxe with a thud and leaned the handle against the rock before unbuckling his belt to take a piss in the sand. The Chargers had started to set up camp near the treeline of the shore side on an elevated spot. They had perfect view over the Storm Coast's beach and a wall of solid stone shielding their backs.

The wind roared in the Qunari's ears like a feral beast and the heavy rain was streaming down his bare torso, soaking his pants and filling his boots. Just when he had pulled up his pants with a huff he picked up a sound that mixed with the howling of the storm. It was a distant roar, like the rumbling of falling rocks from deep within a mountain, mighty and full of burning rage.

Dragon!

Bull's hand shoot out to grab his weapon and he turned on his heel, shooting a glance up to the camp where he could see Krem ordering the Chargers around.

„Oi, Krem!"

He could see the Tevinter shout directions, but his men were too far away to hear the Qunari. The wind carried every word away like autumn leaves.

It didn't take Bull long to consider his options. He could either run up the hill and grab a few men, risking to let the beast go away without even laying his single eye on it, or he could follow the roar and take it on on his own. Bull knew it was a somewhat careless decision, but he took off in the opposite direction of their camp, following the line of the shore to the left. He passed beneath a naturally formed bridge of dark stone that linked a massive wall of rock to a towering cliff and saw a flash of bright flames illuminate a wall of fog in the distance for a few seconds. He felt a rush of adrenaline and speed up with a grin on his face, changing his direction slightly to the right, heading towards a high cliff. He wouldn't risk to be spotted by the dragon and be greeted by shooting flames before he had had the chance to get close enough to hit it.

Reaching the massive formation of salt-dusted rock after running quite some time, Bull leaned his shoulder against the cool, wet surface, catching his breath. He could smell smoke in the air, mixed with salt and seaweed... and the coppery hint of fresh blood.

The dragon must be hurt. Or tearing something apart. Bull gripped his axe with both hands and straightened when he noticed that something seemed to be off.

It was quiet. Too quiet-

In fact, after the single roar that had gotten his attention he hadn't heard the beast's voice again... Suspiciously, he took one step after another, slowly circling the rock. The fog was thick and seemed to brush against his skin as he walked, careful not to make a sound.

There, right in front of him, was the outline of a massive shape that slowly became the outline of a dragon's body. The huge beast was lying on its side, one wing buried beneath its big body, the other was angled awkwardly and pointing in his direction. The reptile was surrounded by bits and pieces of burning driftwood and the ground of the whole area was trampled and burned. There were claw marks on stone, deep as furrows on a field. There had been a fight.

Bull slowed and stood. Fighting against a fierce predator was something he enjoyed. Killing a wounded animal was nothing to be proud of. There would be no real fight for him today. The Qunari felt a pang of bitter disappointment in his gut. He stepped closer and saw deep cuts on the dragon's throat. Dark blood was seeping out and into the wet sand. The rain was washing it towards the sea.

The next thing he noticed was the dull eye that was starring into the cloudy sky, half hidden by a semi-transparent lid. Bull lowered his weapon and stepped in front of the lifeless body. He reached out and laid a hand on the scales right on the dragon's muzzle. It was still warm. The mouth was standing a bit open and revealed two rows of dagger like teeth. Bull patted the animal and shouldered his axe. There wasn't anything left to do for him. He should get two or three of his man and see what they could cut out of the cadaver.

Bull started to walk away, carrying his heavy axe on his right shoulder, when he picked up the soft rustling of moving scales and turned back around.

The dragon's chest was heaving with what seemed a shallow intake of breath.

Bull quickly took two steps to his right, pressed his back up against the rock, gripping the handle of his battleaxe and watched the creature. The movement continued. There wasn't any rhythm to it. It was a jerking, stopping, twitching that became more frantic.

Just when Bull decided that it was time to put that poor thing out of it's misery, the movement suddenly became unnatural. It was the moment he realized that this was no breathing or heartbeat. The abdominal wall bulged like there was something moving inside, pushing against it. Finally The Iron Bull spotted a long incision running in a horizontal line in between the dragon's scales near his stomach. The movement beneath the skin increased.

Blood gushed out as the cut began to stretch. A big lump of raw flesh, muscles and veins was slowly pushed out of the beast's belly. As soon as the over sized organ hit the sandy ground with a revolting wet sound, a pair of slender arms appeared in the opening and a body slid out of the gory hole, like a butterfly from the cocoon.

The Qunari held perfectly still, mesmerized by what he saw. The slender body was covered in crimson from tip to toe.

A naked elf had clawed his way out of the beast.


	2. Blood

**2: Blood**

The Iron Bull managed in time to get behind a formation of black rocks before the elf got up. Now he spotted some empty flasks of glass scattered around the dragon. Some were broken.

Samil stretched and combed back his hair with his free hand. The strands were slick from the dragon's blood. Sticky red liquid was dripping down his body and slowly formed a pool around his naked feet. The heavy rain was still pouring down on the coast and had started to wash the crimson off his ivory white skin.

The elf took a deep breath and crouched down, presenting Bull with a quite memorable view. He let a long blade slip from his fingers. It fell into the sand, right next to the big bloody lump that was the dragon's heart he had cut out of the beast's chest.

Through the thick fog Bull could see a bundle of wet clothes, right next to the death beast's hind legs. He hadn't noticed them before amidst the many pieces of scattered dark boulders. The elf pulled a big piece of fabric off the stack and close – maybe a coat. Then he bowed down and scooped the bloody heap up with both arms to place the heart in the center of the fabric and wrapped it up. When he had made a knot to tie the ends of the fabric together he grabbed a piece of wood and the blade he had dropped before. He quickly whipped the blood off the silver blade on the side of the bundle. Bull watched the mage put back the sharp weapon on the end of his staff and heard a short clicking noise as the metal locked in place.

Now the deep cuts on the dragon's throat made sense to him. With the staff's blade the elf must have had sufficient range to slash the animal's carotid artery. Trice.

The Staff was placed down and the Qunari ducked with unexpected as the slender figure shifted and got up, turning to face his direction.

Bull peaked again over the stone as the elf stepped into the surge of waves, until the cool water reached up to his navel. Samil could feel the water's force, trying to pull him into the sea, but it was not strong enough to sweep him off his feet yet. He inhaled sharply and disappeared for a few seconds beneath the turbulent surface. When he reemerged the crimson had washed off. The wet skin had the same color of the sheashells that had washed up on the shore.

Bull finally felt his own blood rush downwards when he realized, that the elf's hair had kept their red color. A hue of dark, rich gules.

"Most mages I know of would keep some distance to their target", Bull commented, unable to hold back his amazement anymore. His quick reflexes saved him from a fireball that collided with the rock in his back, right on the level were his chest had been a moment before. "Hey! Careful with that."

"Most mages won't have a choice if they run out of mana during a fight", the elf retorted. When Bull carefully glanced back again over the rock, the elf had already rushed out of the water and was holding his staff, presenting him a full frontal view of his naked body. Amber eyes scanned the area and skipped over to the cliff, when Samil spotted the movement of the Qunari's horns. Sparks of magic flared warningly around slender fingertips.

"Most mages won't succeed in incinerating innocent bystanders without mana." Bull rose a bit, holding both hands at the high of his shoulders so the other could see them.

"You seem pretty much fine to me." The elf relaxed a bit and lowered his staff – but not his vigilance. "Maybe a little charred around the horns. Perhaps I should aim a bit lower next time", he joked and bent sideways to snatch his breeches from the ground, without taking his eyes off the Qunari, who followed the elf's example and kept watching him as he pulled up the fabric to his waist, fastening it with on hand. Bull noticed the elf's lack of hurry to cover up with a lopsided sneer.

"I think you already have", muttered Bull under his breath whilst the elf put on more clothes.

"The Iron Bull, I presume?", he called over, pulling down the hem of his gambeson with one hand, still holding his staff in the other.

"Yeah. The horns usually give it away."

Bull caught a most intriguing spark of mischief in the elf's honey colored eyes. The next thing he noticed was the emblem on his clothes. It showed an eye and a sword, surrounded by rays of light. The heraldic device of the Inquisition.

"So you're with the Inquisition, huh?" Bull figured it was safe to pick up his axe, without risking to have another fireball aimed at him again. The elf nodded and picked up his staff, too and hoisted the bloody bundle of soaked cloth up. He swayed a little under the weight of the big organ on his shoulder.

"One could say so. I'm here to see what you and your Chargers have to offer. Got held up a little..." The elf was interrupted by a shout from the wall of fog in the Qunari's back.

"Hey, Chief!" Two blurry figure came closer, until a soldier reached them, accompanied by a second man. The younger man wore full armour and shoot an almost annoyed look at the Qunari as he slowed down a little, walking round a few boulders. "Why'd you run off like that. We won't set up your big ass tent for y-", he stopped short when his gaze fell upon the death dragon, whistling through his teeth. "Forget I asked."

Bull laughed and gestured at the new arrival. "I assume you remember Cremisius Aclassi, my Lieutenant."

"Good to see you again", the handsome soldier greeted the elf politely, before looking back at his commander. "Can we get out of the rain already? I can almost feel my armour starting to rust."

"You could help me strip the carcass for all the good parts before we head to your camp? I can't carry all of it alone. Teeth, claws, hide... you know. I just don't want to let it lay here out in the open. Chances are there will be nothing valuable left when I get back."

"Would be a shame to waste resources", Bull agreed and signaled the two chargers to come closer.

Some time later the beast was almost completely taken apart, the four of them soaked and packed with parts of the dragon as they made their way back to the rest of the Chargers.


	3. Happy little accidents

**Chapter 03: Happy little accidents**

The wet sand beneath their feet shifted under the weight of each step they took, but as soon as they had reached the foot of the hill the ground was solid again. Rain was still falling heavily from the gray sky, washing away the footprints like waves as the four of them reached the Charger's camp side.

With a shrug Bull let the weight he had been carrying slip from his shoulder. Krem and the other soldier followed their leader's example and dropped dragon hide, claws and fangs on top of the heap. The elf groaned a little as he set down his bundle. The fabric was soaked from blood and the lump gave a disgusting wet squelch when it hit the ground.

The Iron Bull straightened up and rotated his shoulders to relax the muscles, checking his surroundings as he did so. The tents had been raised. Except his own. He snorted, slightly amused by the stubbornness of his mercenary band. The Chargers were his subordinates, sure, but he was far from being an arrogant ass who thought himself too good to do some basic work himself. It was, after all, his own fault for running off like that. Setting up his own tent wouldn't take too long.

„Looks like the Chief has made a new friend." A female elf with a vallaslin on her face approached and eyed the random pieces of death dragon on the ground, nodding slightly at the new arrival with a smile.

„Nice hair", another elf greeted with a grin that was a little too big, elbowing the man right next to him, who was unable to suppress a highly amused snort.

„Nice ears", Samil greeted back, giving the elf a suggestive wink. His voice had a downright ribald cadence at that. The other elf's cheeks immediately turned red and his mouth opened, eyes narrowed, ready to voice his indignation. Bull laughed, knowing all too well what insinuation had been about.

„Skinner, play nicely with the kid", a dwarf interrupted before things had a chance at getting ugly.

„Yes. That one might actually eat you alive", said the soldier that had accompanied Krem on his mission to drag their Chief back to camp and shook his head. „The Herald of Andraste took down the damn beast Chief was running after... I need a drink", he muttered to himself.

„Speaking of which. How did you do it? Kill a goddamned dragon all by yourself..." Samil met the measuring glance the Qunari gave him, slightly confused about the fact that there was something else than mere impression to it, but he couldn't place his finger on it.

„Who said I did?", Samil answered with a simple shrug. He knew he hadn't exactly the most impressive body built, leaning heavily towards the androgynous side, but he didn't mind. Being underestimated mostly served to one's advantage.

Bull crouched down next to the bloodied heap and picked up one of the long teeth, weighing it in his big hand. Suddenly, the rest of the Charger's was very quiet. The redhead could feel all eyes on him. Funny how the mention of his assigned title wasn't the thing that seemed to have startled them at all, he thought.

„The dragon had been fighting with a giant. When it landed it blocked my way of escape, so the only thing I did was trying not to get killed. Luckily for me it was already wounded and exhausted from the previous fight. I just had to pick an opportune moment to deliver a few lethal blows", he began to explain and Bull let the tooth fall back on top of the loot as Samil continued. „Actually, I'm lucky I'm unharmed. The beast was still fit enough to chase me about until I had no mana left and almost made a nice little briquette of charred elf out of me. It breathed fire, I ducked and slipped on a wet rock, it attempted to snap me in half and got in range of my staff blade, I slit its throat... the end."

There was a moment of silence as the Chargers processed the Herald's story whilst the smiled somewhat sheepishly, feeling a bit uncomfortable. The Iron Bull was the first one to speak up.

„So you're practically saying that you killed a dragon on pure accident?" Bull started laughing at the thought, half in good humor, half in disbelief. „It's a shame I didn't get there sooner. I would have loved to see that." Also he would have loved to step in and get some of that angry dragon for himself.

„It was more purposefully unpurposefully on purpose, but yes. I guess so." The elf pouted a little and crossed his arms in front of his chest, which made The Iron Bull' barking laugh grow even louder because it just accentuated the elf's slim frame, making the story even more unbelievable, even though the remains of the slain beast lay before them.

„Alright, Herald, let's talk business", Bull invited him to talk about the reason why he had sent his Lieutenant to Haven in the first place. They moved to sit on a formation of rocks at the verge of the camp. But they didn't get far.

Before they could move to sit down there was a sense of tension flaring in the air. Suddenly the Herald drove his shoulder against The Iron Bull, using his full body weight to push the Qunari out of the way.

„Watch out!" Bull, instantly catching on, let himself be pulled down by gravity, cursing his blind spot.

The next second they could feel a surge of voltage-carrying magic speed past them. The spell hit the wall of solid rock in their back and send sparks of electricity flying.

Bull heard someone curse in Tevene, but it wasn't Krem's voice. He quickly grabbed the elf by the belt, catching their staggering bodies, pulling Samil back on his feet.

„Venatori!" Someone shouted a warning as the Chargers run up to them, weapons drawn.

The fight had been short but nasty. The air was still filled with electricity and made their wet skin crawl in an unpleasant way.

„Chargers. Stand down", Bull turned his head and glanced back at some corpses whilst Krem walked up to him. „Krem. How'd we do?"

„Five of six wounded, Chief. No dead."

„That's what I like to hear." He couldn't help but smile as the feeling of paternal pride flit through him. „Let the throat-cutters finish up, then break out the casks." Krem nodded slightly and Bull's reminding eye caught sight of Samil coming close. „And check twice. I don't want any of those Tevinter bastards getting away", Bull shouted after Krem, who turned his head. „No offense, Krem."

„None taken. At least this bastard knows who his mother was. Puts him one up on you Qunari, right?", his Lieutenant replied and walked on, baffling the Herald a bit. Samil couldn't help himself but had to suppress a laugh as he imagined anyone talking back to Cassandra like that.

„Where were we?", the elf joked, still slightly out of breath but smiling in a way that Bull would label adorable.

„Come on, have a seat. Drinks are coming", Bull invited him again to sit with him. This time they weren't interrupted in their negotiations and a few minutes later, the Chargers had been hired.

 **Authors Note:  
** I hope you enjoyed. I skipped some of the in-game dialogue at the end.

You can find me on tumblr: **le-innocent**  
nsfw-fanart is bound to happen at some point.


	4. Bad habits

**Chapter 04: Bad habits**

Bull had finally set up his own tent. They had secured the beach so far and their new companion had disappeared for a few hours in order to find his own party. The Chargers had been patched up properly and were sitting at the fire, laughing about crude jokes and drinking.

The Qunari, who was cursed with an eye patch, was taking the first turn at their night watch whilst the sky was turning slowly from blue to black. He was sitting with his back turned to his men, still listening and laughing with them, when he spotted four figures approaching them from the direction where the towering formation of black rock formed a small passage on the coast.

One figure lifted its left hand and waved at him, a shimmer of green following the movement in the twilight. Bull replied by raising his arm, acknowledging their presence.

„Looks like the Herald is back and brings us some company", he called over his shoulders and stood as the party came up the hill.

„Yes... I thought it would be better to give my men a sign I was still alive and didn't end up as a heap of ashes before they found the dragon and my empty flasks of healing potion-" The Herald was interrupted by a woman in heavy armor with a stern look on her face and sharp eyes like a hawk. Bull noticed that she had a prominent scar on her cheek as she turned her head.

„That's exactly why I keep insisting that you take somebody along when you go scouting- really, you seem to have the astonishing talent of finding trouble." The elf inhaled, but seemed to change his mind before he had uttered a word and decided to remain silent, accepting the somewhat motherly reproach. Bull still caught him scrunching up his nose a little like a wayward teen would when being confronted with the recklessness of his behavior, which earned him an annoyed look from the woman to which the elf quickly replied with an apologetic grin.

„Can't let him out of your sight. You blink once and he's gone", a dwarf with a generous amount of chest hair on display through his open vest laughed. „Name's Varric Tethras", he introduced himself to the Chargers. „You've already met the Herald, as he has told us. Welcome to our noble cause. The silent elf is Solas", at that the bald mage nodded politely in the general direction of the mercenaries that were surrounding the fire, „and the advisor on how to prolong one's life by not running off into the wilderness would be Cassandra Pentaghast-", Varric paused and turned to the warrior, „or do you prefer to be introduced by your full name and title? Wouldn't want to offend anybody."

„No, it's fine", Cassandra hastily replied with her cheeks a little flushed.

„You're the Lady Seeker that was the right hand of the late Divine?" The woman didn't seem all too comfortable with the question that had come from the campfire but gave a single nod.

„Yes", she said with a sigh, „but that's of no relevance for now. Divine Justinia is dead and the whole world seems to fall apart." She paused, startled to feel a gentle push in her back, but let Samil silently usher her a bit to the side so he could slip past her and Solas, towards the Chargers. The two parties finally joined at the campfire and a proper introduction of Bull's men followed.

Soon Solas was arguing with Skinner and Dalish. The bald mage wore a serious expression, like an apprehensive father talking to his offspring, but his eyes were ablaze with passion over the topic they discussed. The rest was listening highly entertained to Krem, who was telling Varric and Cassandra a story of one of their missions, gesturing vividly as he did so. The dwarf could be seen taking notes.

.* * *.

„Aaaand... what exactly are you trying to do down there?" A series of curses uttered in the elven language had drawn The Iron Bull's attention towards the big tangle of various poles, ropes and yards of heavy cloth that had been a freshly set up tent. Beneath the collapsed tent a moving bump struggled with the weight atop.

„For a start I'd like to get out of this mess", a muffled voice called out from beneath and the misshapen bulge shifted.

„Need any help with that?"

„No. I happen to be lying beneath several yards of wet tarpaulin, tangled in a heap of heavy rope, getting crushed by wooden poles, because I like it." The sarcasm made Bull grin sympathetically. The movement stopped and green light shimmering through the fabric gave Bull a rough idea of the Herald's position. „Of course I need help. I could cut myself out, but I don't want to ruin a perfectly fine tent... I'm not exactly a big fan of needlework."

Smiling to himself, Bull bent down and grabbed what he had identified as a supporting pole after a quick examination of the mess in front of him.

„You're not tangled up too badly in there, are you? I don't want to strangle you when I pull his thing up."

„No rope around my neck", was the short answer as a drawn out sigh came from the elf. Bull lifted the end of the post to his shoulder and pushed it up with little effort as he rose back to his feet again. The whole tent moved and seconds later the redhead popped out and landed right between the Qunari's leather covered shins. Bull couldn't help a smug grin that crept onto his face at the view of the elf below as he towered over him.

„Say... is this a custom of yours?", Bull asked and let the pole slip back to the ground. The dark red hair almost seemed to be black in the dark of the night sky. When Samil lifted his head the golden reverberation of the campfire caught in auburn strands, illuminating his hair, as if a sudden breeze had fueled dying embers to ignite into flickering flames. The Iron Bull was no bard by all means, but he could appreciate the sight.

The golden orbs lightly reflecting some of the light were only a bit eery. Bull had two elfs in his little group. Hadn't it been for Skinner and Dalish mocking him mercilessly for the first few weeks after they had met, it might have crept him out some more.

All it did to Bull right now was making him think about various pieces of shredded wardrobe that might be turned into a makeshift blindfold...

„What do you mean?" Samil turned a little, shifting and rising to his knees in front of the Bull.

'Perfect height' was what Bull thought for a moment, just before he remembered the ongoing conversation and offered the elf a helping hand, which was ignored. Instead, a slender hand totally uninhibitedly grabbed the side of the Qunari's belt.

Bull quickly bit the inside of his left cheek, focusing on the sharp sting. He was certain that his Chargers wouldn't let him live it down if he accidentally gave the appointed Herald of Andraste a black eye by hitting him in the face with an unmistakable bulge that he could feel forming beneath the striped fabric of his pants.

Damn. He could feel the urging need of some physical relief raise and grow with every passing second. What Bull needed right now was either steaming hot sex or a bucket of ice cold water down his pants - warm fingers gripped the leather of his belt tighter and brushed against his skin - maybe he should make that a barrel. Just to be sure.

„That's the second time in a single day I saw you crawling out of a big heap of sorts. The question seems justified." The picture of the Herald sliding out of the death dragon sneaked its way back into his mind.

Bull felt a light tug at his waist that send a tingling sensation up his left flank. The moment he realized that the simple touch had left him with goosebumps up to his shoulder blades was the moment he tried to remembered how long it had been since the last time he had had some proper sex. It felt like ages.

Samil stood, let go of the belt and rubbed his hands together in order to get rid of some wet soil.

„I'll try not to make a habit of it", the Herald promised after a short pause with a smile and glanced at the warrior out of the corner of his amber eyes. His gaze traveled across the Qunari's broad chest and dropped for just a second too long before he looked back up.

„I've always preferred to stay on top of things anyways..." The sentence trailed off, the faintest purr lingering within the elf's silky voice and the right corner of petal shaped lips twitched.

Bull felt a feral growl rise to the back of his throat, trying to figure out whether the undertone he had picked up had been mockery or insinuation. He was enjoying where this was going. It had been a while since he had last crossed paths with anyone that seemed to match his sometimes overly open frankness when it came to sexual innuendos.

„Is that so?" The words came out as a low hum. Bull moved in just barely, testing the margin of the elf's personal space and his own.

The Qunari was almost surprised at finding that the warning tickling sensation in his guts that was usually telling one to keep at arm's length wasn't underlined with the usual slightly unpleasant crawling of ones skin but accompanied by the faintest increase of his heart rate. Adrenaline. The good kind. The elf stood his ground, still smiling, almost challenging the beast of a man. His face was calm, but eyes seemed to shine with delight and spelled 'dare'.

The Iron Bull didn't have to look down to know that his pants were probably doing a better impersonation of a tent by now than that sorry heap right next to them. Having had a dragon-slaying redhead with an outrageously cocky attitude kneeling in front of him so shortly after a fight wasn't really helping his growing sexual frustration. Nor did the tempting amount of loose rope behind the elf.

Bull took a full step forward, accepting the challenge as he ripped through the invisible perimeter, allowing the ravenous hunger he was feeling to show on his face. The elf tipped his head back, looking up at the towering ox man with a growing smirk on his face. His appealing lips parted – Bull could almost taste the sting of taunting words from that quick tongue and was already imagining what those lips would look like when closing around...

„You alright, Prickle?"

tbc


	5. Names

**RED**

 **Chapter 05: Names**

„You alright, Prickle?" Varric approached them.

Bull felt as if somebody had emptied the entire metaphorical bucket of ice water he had been wishing for mere moments ago over his head in a very physical way when suddenly another voice interrupted them, disrupting the tension that had built up so quickly between the Herald and himself. Reluctantly he turned his upper body barely enough so he could look at the dwarf.

„Yes, thank you Varric. The stakes must have slipped out of the wet soil, bringing down the tent. Maybe there is too much sand beneath it to give them proper hold. I should have noticed earlier. The Iron Bull saved me heroically from the evil clutches of the tent-monster that tried to swallow me whole." The elf bent sideways, flexible as a blade of grass caught in a breeze of autumn wind, so he could peak past the Qunari's buff frame that was shielding him completely from everybody's view.

„Heh. 'Evil clutches of the tent-monster'... that's ending up in my notebook, just so you know." Varric laughed. The rogue was watching them in a way that expressed friendly interest mixed with slight concern for the elf that was slowly dissolving since the Herald seemed to be unharmed. Bull smiled a bit. He hadn't failed to notice the suspicion towards him the dwarf tried to mask. The polite smile hadn't reached his eyes fully, the Hissrad could tell.

„How's the rest doing?" Samil stepped over the wooden pole Bull had lifted to free him and got around him, effectively obscuring Varric's view of the Qunari's crotch as the later turned around, too. Bull wasn't entirely sure if the Herald was trying to do him a favor or if he was even aware of his current state at all. Thinking of it the elf must have noticed his condition. With the electrifying tension between them gone that quickly Bull suddenly felt dead sober and his erection was dying down.

„The tents are set and we packed up the pieces of dragon carcass you've left here. We can carry them back to our own camp tomorrow and have them brought to Haven. I'm sure our scouts will be busy cutting down the rest of the beast that's left on the shore at least for an entire day." Varric pointed with his right thumb over his shoulder and turned half way around. They had decided to spent the night at the camp of their newly hired mercenaries. That way they could secure a bigger area and have an eye on the remnants of the dragon that were valuable resources until they had gathered all useful bones, since the huge beast was lying between both their camps. The best parts were already secured.

„We're done with preparations for the night so far. Solas is gutting some nugs. Hope you're hungry."

„Alright. I'll quickly clean up this mess and join you when I'm done. I would like not to slide down the hill in my sleep." The Herald scratched the back of his neck, brushing aside some strands of his chin long hair and looked back at his tent with a sigh. The rain was still falling. Not heavily enough to become a real nuisance, but his clothes were soaked. Samil couldn't wait to get out of his robe and change into something dry. He had spent the whole day with wet fabric sticking to his skin. „Anyhow- thanks for checking, Varric."

„Not a problem." Bull felt the rogue's gaze quickly swipe over himself. Varric nodded shortly as he turned and went back to his place at the fire. The horned warrior had been politely quiet while they had talked. When Samil turned around he came face to face with a broadly grinning Iron Bull.

„...Prickle?" The Qunari actually snorted, as if he had been barely able to restrain himself during Samil's short conversation with Varric. Bull bent down and hoisted the supporting pole back up whilst waiting for a reaction.

„...yes?" A frown was starting to carve shallow furrows into the elf's forehead. Samil grabbed some rope and quickly started untangling it before tugging at one end, pulling some part of the fabric back up.

„'Prick-le?' I'm assuming that's not your name?" The warrior's shoulders twitched a few times and his smirk became mocking. Bull grabbed another rope and wrapped it around the pole. The elf huffed, took one of the stakes and drove it back into the ground, carefully choosing an angle that would keep it in place. In that moment The Iron Bull was somehow reminding him of a gleeful child that had discovered some forbidden secret, despite his otherwise impressive appearance. The contrast between the man's youthful expression and his almost intimidating body build was a sight to behold.

„No, it's not... Varric will give everyone he's known for some time a nickname", Samil explained and kicked another stake with the heel of his boot to push it back into the ground. „Usually it comes out of nowhere, hits you over the head out of the blue and suddenly you're stuck with it." At the moment Lavellan felt a little too offended by the way Bull had put emphasis on the first syllable of the nickname so he choose not to give him his real name yet.

„You'll probably be the next one to get struck." That was no idle threat. Bull would find out soon enough.

„Prickle like- what?" The warrior wasn't impressed by the warning glare fired from glowing elven eyes any sensible being would have headed. Instead the choose to ignore it and secured the other side of the tent.

„Like 'thorn' and the sensation of such piercing skin." Samil smiled sweetly, but there was an audible hiss accompanying the words of the common language, as if the redhead's tongue had suddenly become a sharp-edged blade that was cutting through the sentence, giving the Qunari a rough idea about the nickname's origin.

„I think I need you to elaborate." Bull tugged at the flysheet, pulling it in place. He felt a bit reminded of the practice of distributing names related to one's assignment and function under the Qun. It made him curious about the circumstances that might have led to the Herald earning himself that unusual nickname.

„You should ask Varric. He is, after all, the author and the source of that particular malady." Samil, who didn't seem to really mind the nickname, despite his choice of words, pulled the last rope taught and wrapped it around a stake, checking the construction before he got up. „So how did you get the name 'Iron Bull'?" The Qunari stepped away from the tent as the Herald got around it.

„I picked it. We don't have names under the Qun. Just- I don't know. Job descriptions, I guess. When I came to Orlais I choose 'The Iron Bull' for myself." Bull noticed that the binding knot the Herald had used looked somewhat nautical. So the lad definitively knew how handle rope and how to tie knots. The promising discovery led to another wolfish grin on the Qunari's face.

„Why specifically 'Iron Bull'?" The elf was gathering a loose length of rope, twisting it around his hand and elbow, without breaking eye contact. Reflexes of green light were flitting across the wet surface of the bold escarpment in the elf's back with every turn of his left palm.

„This might surprise you, but I really like hitting things." Bull could have demanded some kind of 'quid pro quo', hoping to get the Herald's real name in exchange for this particular information, but the hypnotizing movement of rope sliding against pale hands and shimmering green light from the anchor had distracted him. Bull saw the Herald's lips twitch into a sardonic smile, that was gone after a blink. He could feel the tension from before built up again and stepped closer, until he could feet the distinct tingle of the invisible line that marked the extend and limit of their personal space again. The redhead held his breath, just for a moment, chest rising a bit more that it had until now.

„Also, it's 'THE Iron Bull', technically. I like having an article at the front. It makes it sound like I'm not even a person, just a mindless weapon, an implement of destruction..." Bull stepped closer, forcing the redhead to look up, testing the limit further. The elf didn't move to avoid him.

„That really works for me." The warrior's grin accompanying that last sentence was absolutely indecent. The Herald was merely reaching up to his pectoral muscles and now standing trapped in between a wall of solid black rock and a bare-chested Qunari.

„Hmmm... I think I could work with that", Lavellan purred. They were standing closer to each other than they had before Varric had interrupted. Too close to still pretend that both of them were ignorant of the sexual tension.

„So, what's your real name?" Bull placed his right hand on the wet rock behind the other's back. The tent on the other side was cutting off the elf's only route of escape. He didn't seem too bothered, but glanced quickly past the man.

„You'll have to earn it," the Herald announched when looking back up and leaned back against the rock, an almost too complacent grin on his face. The golden lines of his Vallaslin were barely visible with so little light around, but the color of the thin lines on his forehead and on the high cheekbones beneath his eyes matched his eyes.

„Earn it?" Bull's lips twitched. A rumbling chuckle rose in his chest. „Alright, I'll play along, 'Prickle'. How do I earn your name?"

„It'll be easy, really." The elf tilted his head in a mocking way, pretending to think about a suiting 'quest' when Bull could already feel the demand dancing on the tip of his tongue. „All you need to do is...", trust the tease to make a pause for the dramaturgical effect, „...giving me a kiss on the mouth."

„Just a kiss?" Bull's gaze dropped instantly. The other simply nodded.

There was another pause. The Qunari was intrigued. Also surprised by the boldness of the demand, but he was quickly growing eager to fulfill the task. Yet he hesitated. He'd never imagined a dainty elf to be quite so imperious in relation to a hulking and battle-scarred brute.

The Iron Bull knew that he would hardly be labeled as handsome. He was missing an eye, nasty scars run along his face, one even splitting his lip, his chin full of scratchy stubble and his body built fit his choosen name. Then again – he didn't know the Herald yet and so far he hadn't left Bull with the impression of being particularly prudish. Who was he to judge the Herald's preferences anyway? Bull wasn't going to complain.

He leaned in. The elf seemed perfectly relaxed, resting with his back against the natural wall. His lips were slightly parted. Invitingly. And he was waiting.

„No biting?" Bull paused mid-movement. Setting some rules had always been essential and Bull had a feeling that the elf wasn't above cheating.

„No biting- this time", Samil promised snickering. His lips were wet from the never ending rain.

Bull shrugged of the leery feeling that this seemed too easy a task and assumed that the elf was simply underestimating the Hissrad's speed. He wouldn't be the first. The muscles in his arms twitched, ready to shoot out and grab the redhead. Bull tentatively leaned in more, expecting a sudden attempt of the elf to flit away.

Bull had him trapped. The elf's only chance of getting away would be to dodge one of his arms. All the warrior would have to do in order to inhibit his escape was to shift his weight, blocking the way with his flank and hip – that was if he wasn't fast enough to grab him first. Bull kept his eye on the smiling elf as he slowly bent down, still waiting for a minimal flinch, ready to pin him down.

Samil didn't move.

Bull was ready to push the elf up the rough wall in a bruising kiss. Their lips were only an inch apart and the Qunari felt warm breath on his skin, his own tickling the pretty face in front of him. Samil lifted his chin ever so slightly, golden eyes half closed.

The only warning Bull got was the fainted crackling sound in his ears, right before the pricking sensation of an electric shock hit him square in the face.


	6. Missing

Bull had the slight impression that he might just have found the origin of the Herald's nickname. The painful feeling of being struck by a lightning bolt slowly dissolved into the prickling sensation of a hundred small needles under his skin. 'Prickle' indeed. He felt as if he had fallen face first into one of those fancily cut rosebushes he had seen in Val Royeaux. The Qunari blinked groggily. His head was spinning. The next thing he realized was that he was lying on his back. Flickers of green light danced across his vision and a blur of red told him that the elf was standing above him. His face was beginning to feel somewhat numb and he couldn't even try to describe how his mouth felt. His upper lip still burned and throbbed where the electric spark had hit.

Bull felt as if he had just received the most accurately aimed resounding bitch-slap of his entire life.

„Chief! What happened?" Krem's face appeared above him, right next to the Herald's. „You came down like a tree. The whole ground shook." His first in command sounded more amused than concerned.

„Should have yelled 'timber', Chief." Another face appeared. A grinning one. Dark hair. Skinner? His head slowly cleared.

So much for underestimation...

„Got m' ass handed to me for being stup'd", Bull grunted. His tongue felt heavy. Bull sat up, noticing that his horns seemed to have doubled in their weight. Somebody laughed. Bull wasn't sure if it was Krem, Skinner or somebody else. His ears still rang a little but the spinning in his head stopped.

„Hey, Tiny. Need any help getting back on your feet?" Varric. Also grinning, but more in a sympathetic way. It took Bull a couple of seconds to register the fact that the dwarf seemed to have given him a nickname. 'Hit over the head out of the blue' the Herald had said. That seemed to be an accurate description of how he felt at the moment.

„Nah, I'm fine." Bull shifted his weight to his knee before he got up. A little arch of purple and white electricity jumped from one tip of his horns to the other, giving his men a rough idea of the scenario they had missed.

„What's the matter, The Iron Bull? You look so... charged." Alright, the Herald's sense of humor matched his Lieutenant's. Krem didn't possess enough courtesy not to laugh and started snickering immediately.

„Damn, Boss!" Bull raised a hand and rubbed his face. The wetness of the rain must have increased the effect of the nasty spell, allowing the electrical charge to spread across his whole face „I'm really glad now I dodged that fireball on the beach."

Samil smiled at the new title. He liked it.

He couldn't even accuse the mage of cheating. He hadn't bitten him. Bull should have remembered to include 'no magic' when he had set the 'no biting' rule.

„Lesson learned", the Qunari muttered to himself, stepping outside his tent. Varric, who was guarding the camp, sitting beneath some canvas they had stretched between four posts to make some sort of rain shelter, turned his head to check who had gotten up and nodded shortly before looking back to the shore.

„Sleepless night, Tiny?" There was the nickname again. Bull could have sworn there had been amusement in Varric's voice. Then again the dwarf seemed to be cheerful all the time.

„Nah, call of nature", he informed and disappeared for a moment. He simply could have turned his back on the other man while taking a piss, but Bull happened to be somewhat considerate. At least around people he didn't know that well. Not everyone was bound to feel comfortable with a Qunari pulling down his pants next to him.

„You wanna hit the bedroll? It'll be dawning in less than an hour and I'm staying up", he offered once he was done and had his belt buckled again. He crouched down to nurse the fire a bit.

„No, I'm good. Kind of an early bird myself. But-" Varric stretched and leaned his impressive crossbow that had been lying in his lap against his shoulder, „I'd like to write some stuff down before I loose track of my own thoughts. Some ideas just don't ever come back to you again, if you don't put pen to paper." Ah, right. Varric was a writer. And a good one, for all he had heard. Krem had actually read one of his books, if Bull remembered right.

„Sure. I'll keep an eye on the shoreline."

„Full attention then, hm?" Varric gave a short laugh. One of the heartwarming kind that was exactly the thing that kept one sane with all the doom and gloom of a torn sky going one. Bull laughed, too.

„Good one", he admitted.

„I know, right?" Varric got up and went to grab his notebook, but stopped in his steps. „Ah, you probably should know that Prickle could be returning soon. Just don't hit him with your axe." Bull's eyebrows rose simultaneously with surprise.

„The Herald left the camp?"

„As I said- that elf is worse than a litter of kittens when it comes to running off. It's miracle the Seeker let him out of his shackles after the first time he disappeared. But he did return on his own. At least now he'll tell you before leaving. But I'm not here to hold him prisoner and he's returned every time until now. I wouldn't worry. He's shown he can take care of his own ass. Couldn't blame the lad for making a run for it though...", Varric shrugged and left Bull standing by the entrance to the camp.

Most men were raising with the sun. The Herald was still gone.

„M'rning Ch'f." Krem greeted around the unevenly cut slice of bread between his teeth. He was balancing on one foot, trying to put his other boot on as well whilst one of his hands was holding a piece of cheese. His hair was sticking up like unruly feathers on the back of his head from sleeping on his back.

Bull ruffled Krem's hair as he walked past him. „Want some meat with that, Krem de la creme?" His Lieutenant hopped on one foot and flipped him off for the nickname (or at least tried to, since he was still holding the cheese), grunting around his breakfast and took a bite out of the bread, once he had finally managed to get into his boot.

„Is any left? I don't know what that Solas guy did, but that nug I had was actually pretty good." Nugs weren't Krem's first choice. When it came to meat he usually preferred something that wasn't made out of half as much bones and skin, but he wasn't picky either.

„I'm glad to hear it was too your taste. I just used some local herbs to spice them. I can elaborate, if you're interested." The bald elf walked past them with his calm demeanor, but seemed lightly amused about witnessing their interaction.

The Iron Bull left them to discuss some cooking and went to the rain shelter where they kept most of their stuff, planning on getting some breakfast of his own. "Sorry, Krem. No nugs left. We need to go hunting anyways. We're running out of meat", the Qunari called over his shoulder as he went through some of their bags.

"Any apples left, Chief?" Dalish rubbed her cheek, which showed additional lines to her Vallaslin from the folds of her blanket. Bull tossed her two big apples, one red, one yellow, both a bit wrinkled but sweet, which she caught gracefully. "Thanks."

Bull took one for himself and closed the bag. When he flung it back on top of the other bags he must have miscalculated his aim a bit. It it one of the other sacks and fell off the small cart. Sighing, Bull stepped around it to retrieve the fruit. On the other side of the cart they had stocked up the pieces of loot from the dragon. Bull saw the brown bag lying on a folded piece of scaled skin. As the Ben-Hassrath bent over to grab it, he noticed that something was missing.

He couldn't spot the bloodied cloak the Herald had used to wrap the reptile's heart in. It was gone, along with what it had held.


	7. Offerings

"It's getting late." Cassandra fumbled with some clasps on her left arm, securing the heavy mail. "Why did you let him leave? We won't reach the other camp before sunset if we don't move within the next hour-"

"I'm not his parent, Seeker. Nor are you." It was the first time Bull saw Varric with a somewhat annoyed expression on his face, which matched the woman's. "Besides: the Herald never specified whether we should wait for him or move ahead. I say we pack up and leave. He'll find us and if he returns to this site he's in good company. The kid is Dalish, for Andraste's sake. Let him run through the woods and hug some trees. Keeping him on a leash won't do any good."

Bull slightly disapproved of that last sentence. He had a certain feeling that the Herald wouldn't mind things that involved a leash too much...

"Varric is right. S-", Solas interrupted himself before the redhead's name could slip past his lips, "The Herald", he corrected himself, "will be able to track us down, if he is going to follow us." Bull caught the quick, almost apologetic glance from the elf.

"Yes. Listen to the mage, Seeker. It's not like he doesn't know the way or we're trying to hide our tracks", Varric added. "We need to drop off the loot anyway. It will slow us down a bit and he might use a shortcut. Chances are he'll get to the forward camp before we do."

"I'm going to strangle him some day... He could at least help us carry part of it." Bull kept quiet, smiling to himself upon noticing that Cassandra's rant held mostly motherly concern that she was trying to hide behind her mild outrage. It was a nice dynamic to become aware of.

"You can give him a proper spanking for running off again once he returns." Varric offered sarcastically and earned another glare. He seemed to be familiar with the real emotions behind Cassandra's display, too, and mocked accordingly. Bull started asking himself if the dwarf was aware of what kind of mental images his words gave to him.

"I can go looking for him if you'd like", the Qunari offered before this got out of hand and Varric brought up another thing that served to tease a kinky mind.

The two of them looked at Bull as if they had completely forgotten about the mercenary, despite his towering form that was hardly a thing to overlook.

"I don't think that'd be-"

"I would appreciate-"

Varric and Cassandra exchanged a quick glance with each other upon discovering another thing to disagree upon, making Bull chuckle in his rumbling tune.

"Alright. I'll be back in about an hour", said Bull and freed them of their choice. "If I haven't found the Boss by then you can still leave and we'll make sure he knows what's going on when he get's back. He'll be fine with us and we are heading for Haven anyways."

Varric had given him a push in the direction he had seen the elf leave in. The never ending rain had erased all tracks from the shore. Bull walked at a relaxed pace, scanning his surroundings with an trained eye. He remembered Varric saying something about the Herald "hugging trees" and changed his path, stepping into the forest.

The trees stood far apart, leaving enough space in between to prove no problem for his angled horns. He'd hate to have to walk hunched in order to avoid getting hit in the head by branches. His weapon wasn't the best choice for entering a field like this, he was aware of that, but Bull didn't expect to get attacked in this area. Too close to the camp. If there were any Venatori left after the fight from the other day they would consider carefully whether to make their presence known or keep hiding.

Despite being huge the Ben-Hassrath moved quietly. He had been trained as a spy, after all. Some things just came with the job. The foliage above him rustled and sang with the rain and wind that caught in the leaves. The ground was soaked. Wet moss swallowed the sound of his steps. A startled fox ran across his path, disappearing as quickly as he had come.

Since discovering that the dragon's heart had gone missing along with the elf, Bull had been wondering what the Herald was planning on doing with it. Bull's guesses where that the Dalish was at best offering it to some elven Gods and at worst trying some crazy blood magic ritual with the organ. Either way he was curious what he might discover.

Suddenly he caught the smell of smoke and burning wood. Bull decided to follow it, guessing he would find a certain redhead by the fire.

He wasn't disappointed.

Samil was sitting beneath a big tree that formed a natural shelter. A little fire had been built where the flames couldn't do any harm. The elf was leaning to his side so he was facing away from the approaching Qunari and poked the burning wood with his staff blade for a moment, then put the staff back on the ground by his side. The fire became brighter and Bull figured that he must have used some spell to shield the flames from the falling rain.

"It's dangerous to sit alone by a fire that will attract attention. I could have been an enemy and I've gotten way too close." The elf sat up straight as he heard Bull's warning words. On his crossed legs sat the tainted cloak. He had opened it to reveal the dragon's heart. There was blood on his slender fingers, staining white hands crimson up to their wrists.

"You're standing on wet ground and are practically soaking from the rain." Samil turned to face Bull with a smile. Shocked, the Qunari cursed and took a step back. The lower half of the elf's face was covered in red wetness. Blood was smeared across his cheeks and dripping from his lips. Not exactly the picture Bull had expected to see. "What do you think will happen, if I were to touch the ground whilst conjuring a lightning spell? Should we try it out and see?", the elf asked with an almost painfully innocent tone of voice and let an arch of electrical energy jump from one tip of his fingers on his right hand to the other and back again.

"I think I can estimate the outcome- I'm afraid I'll have to decline the offer." Eating it. The Herald was eating the dragon's heart. Bull wasn't sure where to place that on a scale between offering it to elven Gods and blood magic rituals. Was this good or bad?

Samil turned his attention back to the heart and took hold of the raw flesh with both his hands, digging his fingers in and tearing off a piece as if it was cooked chicken, stuffing it in his mouth. Dark blood petered out of the torn lump of muscle tissue in his lap. Bull watched in fascination as the piece disappeared between the elf's lips.

"Do you want some?", Samil asked between chewing and swallowing and made an offering sign towards the lump of flesh as Bull sat down beside him.


	8. Ataashi

"Do you want some?"

Bull glanced at the lump of raw meat in the elf's lap. Thick veins were visible on the outside of the heart. Some of the bigger ones were collapsed and caved in from the lack of blood flowing through them. The Herald had already ripped through the outer wall of the organ, allowing the Qunari to have a look at the cardiac chambers inside. Some reminding blood had gathered in the hollow of the cavities, filling the bottom. It looked interesting. Certainly not very appetizing to most, but interesting.

Bull was thinking about the fact that this shapeless piece of muscle tissue was the very thing that had been sitting in the center of one of the creatures he was most fascinated by. The core and essence of it's life force. This was the vital energy of a Dragon.

Lavellan noticed the pondering silence and mistook it for reluctance, since the Warrior hadn't answered yet.

"You don't have to eat it raw", he offered with a smile as he tore another piece of flesh out of the heart and wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his other wrist, not really getting any of the blood off. „It's big enough for more than just one." Considered the size of that thing that was an understatement.

„I'll give it a try", Bull decided and leaned closer, finally extending his big right hand towards the Herald. He had mixed feelings, most of them bordering on excitement. The elf placed the veiny piece on Bull's palm and he lifted it to his face, sniffing it curiously, which earned him an amused chuckle from the redhead.

„It's not going to bite."

„Not anymore, huh?" The elf laughed genuinely at the remark, making the Hissrad smile.

Bull poked the piece of bloody flesh in his hand with a finger, studying the texture. It smelled a bit differnent than other kinds raw meat did. Better. The smell of blood still lingered heavily, but it hadn't a coppery hint to it, nor did it smell of iron. Bull felt reminded of something more precious. Gold perhaps, even if he knew that that was complete nonsense since gold didn't smell of anything in particular and was virtually tasteless. Still, the link was there.

It felt warm on his palm, as if it had been cut out of the beast just mere minutes ago. Maybe it was the heat of the Herald's thighs, Bull told himself, despite finding it very unlikely. But the idea seemed nice and he finally took it between his teeth.

The Iron Bull closed his eye.

Never before had he tasted anything like that. He could tell it was meat. But it was different. Still warm, throughout, as if the fire the dragon had breathed, had seeped into each fiber. Smooth on the tongue, moist from the blood when he slowly started to chew. It was hot, as if spiced and left a tingling sensation in his whole mouth after he had swallowed.

When the Qunari reopened his eye he found the Herald grinning at him and got a second piece of the dragon's heart handed to him by the elf, who was smiling knowingly, before he could even react.

„Not too bad, hm?"

„Damn, Boss!" Bull took the second piece, which was big enough to cover his whole palm this time and tore it in half, finding that it was easier done than he had thought after seeing the elf pulling forcefully at the fibers to separate them, but then again his wrist was probably as thick as the smaller male's arm. „Is this another habit of yours?"

The redhead wasn't sure what 'this' was supposed to indicate. Maybe the eating-meat-raw thing. Probably the heart-eating thing. Samil watched as Bull leaned to the fire and grabbed a stick, poking at one of the stones he had used to secure his fire, until it turned, then whipped some of the hot ashes off the surface, before he placed the meat on it, keeping one piece in his hand to eat whilst the second was left to roast.

The elf decided to go with the first option.

„I just - like the taste of raw meat more and have found that others find it disgusting... so I prefer to sit by myself when I get to eat some." The elf shrugged. Bull looked at him and let his gaze roam over his face, just for a second, green eye calm but keen. „Also, I've never had dragon before and in case I'd discover that it had been a bad idea to even try in the first place... I'd rather not get sick in front of Solas. He would probably find a way of making it look as if it somehow was linked to the Dalish being ignorant."

„Curiosity killed the cat, hm?" Samil couldn't tell whether the Qunari was buying his evasive maneuver or not. Alas, the warrior said nothing to show him if he had been caught. Still, the feeling lingered.

„The Qunari call dragons 'Ataashi'. It means 'the glorious ones'", Bull explained between two bites, seeming utmost content. „I've heard that some believe that eating parts of your enemy will give you their strength. Especially hearts. Imagine if I could start breathing fire from this. That sure would be awesome." The gray giant was reminding him of an excited twelve-year-old, even though his body language was totally relaxed. „I don't think there are many who got to take a bite out of one of those beasts."

„Most of the time it's the other way around", Lavellan grinned and took another bite himself. The low rumble, that was the sound of the Qunari's quiet laughter, had a somewhat calming effect.

Bull cut the piece of wood on his axe to get a pointy end, leaned forward and fumbled with the meat on the stone in order to turn it around, instead of just getting up and using his fingers. His loss of depth perception wasn't helpful, but he succeeded at the second try. That was one of the reasons he liked his axe. The range was big and made hitting things easier. With a frown Bull inspected the flipped meat. It still looked raw. Completely so. Not even slightly affected by the , it was dragon, after all-

Suddenly the elf started to cough. It got more violent very quickly and Bull reached over to pat his back as the redhead was coughing into his fist and hunching forward as if he had swallowed the wrong way.

„You alright?", Bull asked sympathetically as his companion turned his head away, nodding but still trying to clear his airway and the Qunari put a little more force into his pats to help. The next second Bull's hand paused in mid-air as an enormous flame shot from the fist the Herald was coughing into, like a bright explosion of searing hot gold, illuminating their rainy-gray surroundings like a roaring torch. Then, within the blink of an eye the light was gone again.

Shocked silence. Neither of them moved.

The startled pause was disrupted by the redhead turning his head back, facing Bull with big honey colored eyes. A split second later the corners of his still blood smeared mouth twitched up, gracing Bull with a tickled pink expression, just as the single word „Mage" flashed through the Hissrad's mind in big bright letters.

„The look on your face! Divine", the Herald practically cried, his whole lithe frame shaking with laughter at the warrior's dumbfound face that changed to a somewhat disgruntled snort. „I'm sorry, I just couldn't resist!"

„That's alright. Some temptations must be given into", Bull huffed. The Herald caught the subtle change in the Qunari's voice, his tune dropping just barely, but this time the other male's speed caught him by surprise.

A hand grabbed him by the neck, thumb and index finger resting against the sides, acting as a vice, but not squeezing His yelp was muffled as he was pulled forward, into a kiss.

[align=center]* * *[/align]

Unshaved skin brushed against the elf's smooth face as the Qunari claimed his lips. The Iron Bull had effectively thrown him off balance, the hand on his neck offering the only support that kept him from sliding onto his back, even when he had placed his left hand on the tree trunk in his reach. It only served to demonstrate the sheer physical strength of the man holding him.

The cloak with the dragon's heart slipped from his thighs and fell between his legs as the elf reached up to grab hold of Bull's wrist in an attempt at steadying himself. Just like the elf realized, that the warrior hadn't exploited his surprised gasp as a chance to invade his mouth, the Qunari noticed that the other wasn't trying to pull free.

Bull gave the Herald another tree seconds to make up his mind before his hand took hold of a fist full of the alluring red hair, successfully wringing another gasp from his lips. This time, Bull took the 'offer', relishing in the delicious sound the elf made then he pushed past his lips. It was a mix of scandalized rebellion and excited enthusiasm. Bull hadn't know that those things could actually match. But he could feel the defiance radiating off the elf at the same moment as the smaller body relaxed against his demanding grip and practically melted into the touch.

The feeling of triumph was growing inside and Bull was grinning in the back of his mind when a realization was starting to grow on him. This was the reaction of somebody who needed this. This kind of game. HIS kind of game.

Nails digging into his skin at the junction of his right shoulder and a tongue sliding against his own only served to prove his assumption. To discover that his suspicion had been right was spurring him on.

When he sensed the elf gathering his balance and pushing slightly against his hold Bull understood the signal and let him pull away.

This time the elf was the one who was greeted with a smug grin. „I believe you owe me something?"

„Samil. My name is Samil..." The Herald was still holding onto the – now very pleased – Qunari, breathing faster than before. „...and now you've blood all over your face."


	9. Not Dalish

„Samil", Bull repeated the word. A short name. Easy to remember and light on the tongue. Starting with a hiss and ending in a smile.

Bull licked his lips, tasting the beast's blood as he straightened up and released the elf, who could at least have possessed the necessary modicum of good grace to blush a little. Instead, a smile rose to blood tainted lips that told it's own tale. The Iron Bull found the almost pretentious look a little vexing, since he didn't get its meaning.

He had stolen the kiss that had earned him the elf's name. Why did the imp seem to delight in some sort of personal victory? Other than the fact that he was an excellent kisser, as he had been told...

The redhead snickered and rubbed his thumb over his own cheek, where Bull's stubbly beard had scratched immaculate skin and the kiss had smeared blood up the side of his yaw. „Judging by your face, mine must be a complete mess.." The slightly poking tone of voice was gentle mockery, which made Bull grin in return.

„Looks like we're both in dire need of some water", he nodded in response. Bulls thoughts returned to the other day, when he had seen the elf step into the roaring surge of the sea. He could still hear the waves crashing against the rocks and washing over the shore from where they were sitting. At that he remembered why he came in the first place.

„Ah, shit. I almost forgot: I was searching for you because your Lady Seeker was becoming impatient. Your party wants to get moving. They said you've had planed to reach some camp of yours before nightfall...", Bull paused, trying to recall if he had forgotten about anything, before he added: „And the dwarf mentioned something about a spanking", just to see how the redhead would react.

„I'm not disinclined to the general idea, but I don't think Varric swings my way", was the bone dry answer to that which was accompanied by a bloodied flash of kittenish fangs from the elf that grabbed his mage staff and got up. „But I guess we really should head back then."

[align=center]* * *[/align]

They had snuffed out the elf's little fire with a heap of wet sand before digging a hole next to it to bury what was left of the torn ruin of the dragon's heart, stacking some heavy stones atop so no wild beast would feed on it. Then they left the forest for the beach, washing sand and blood off in a big puddle near the surge of the sea.

Rain was still falling from the skies. When Samil's face was free of the sticky red liquid the rain continued to sprinkle it with little droplets, like a crust of crystals. Bull couldn't remember if it had ever stopped pouring down during the few days he and his mercenaries had spend around here. Which also meant, that he hadn't yet seen Samil dry yet. The auburn hair still looked as if it were slick with blood, strands of it were clinging to the elf's cheeks and his neck, curling slightly at the tips. Bull studied him a little as they approached camp.

„I must ask of you not to tell the others. Cassandra wouldn't be pleased and Solas would surely find a reason to make me feel like an ignorant child for my choice in breakfast. I'd rather keep enjoying the rest of the day without hearing their lectures." It was the first thing Samil said since they had left the shallow tidewater.

„Sure, Boss. I've heard the House of Pentaghast has a history with dragons." Walking silently side by side hadn't felt strange at all. It had been a relaxing peace and the elf had looked as if he were in deep thoughts, so Bull hadn't intruded, figuring they would get plenty of opportunities to talk in the future. „Solas seems very interesting. He isn't a city elf, for all I can tell, but he's not Dalish either, if I'm not mistaken?"

Samil shook his head, sending little raindrops flying left and right. „Not Dalish, that's for sure. But try to get something out of him concerning his origin... I avoid the topic, to be honest. He possesses the talent to turn the issue into every other direction, just like that. And don't ask him about his opinion on Dalish elves. He turns into a somewhat belittling grandpa and I always want to kick him in the shin... which would probably prove his point in his eyes. But he's also very intelligent, a good mage and I like him well enough."

They reached the top of the hill where the camp stood and were greeted by the smell of lunch. Solas was standing by the fireplace, showing Krem some herbs he had mixed to spice the meat that was roasting by the flames. A whiff of garlicky bear leek, some rosemary, salt, pepper, accompanied by a hint of turnips, mushrooms and potatoes that must be simmering in the pot right besides the meat. Krem was asking Solas questions, to which the elf happily replied. The rest of the Chargers had also gathered around, looking like a litter of hungry wolf pups.

„If you salt the meat any earlier than that it will be too dry and the herbs will burn and become bitter", they heard Solas explain as he sprinkled the ram meat with the mixture he had shown Krem. „Hunger makes impatient, but the wait will be rewarded. You can ruin any dish if your timing is off."

Upon contact with the hot meat the smell of the spices increased. Bull's stomach grumbled in return, despite his recent bloody meal. Solas looked up and greeted them with one of those calm smiles.

„Just back in time. Would you call for Cassandra and Varric? "

„You're still here?", Samil wondered. He had half expected them to have left, after Bull had told him how upset Cassandra had been about the delay.

[align=center]* * *[/align]

„So the landslide is blocking the road to the other camp?" Samil was poking a piece of turnip from the thick stew on his wooden cup with the point of his knife. The Chargers were wolfing down their meals.

„Yes. We will have to go around it. If it were only the four of us we could climb it, but that would mean we'd probably have to leave the loot from the dragon behind." Solas was cutting off a piece of meat for himself.

„That's only an option if you're an agile elf and not wearing heavy mail and weapons. The soil is prone to sliding as we climb. Too dangerous." Varric dipped a piece of bread in his own stew.

„I fear we might have been surprised by the slide had we left earlier." Cassandra seemed upset. Once again she was blaming herself for things that were beyond her control. Her cup was still half full. The self-reproach was affecting her appetite. „It will take our forces days to clean the road. We have to go back to Haven. This mission was supposed to last only for so long. There are urgent matters waiting for you to decide." She looked at Samil, who quickly put the big piece of turnip in his mouth to avoid answering her right away.

„Could be an ambush", Bull pointed out before eating another spoon full of stew. The clatter of spoons and knives around him stopped. All heads turned to him.

„Blocking our way to make us split up?" Krem was already on his second scoop of stew and third piece of meat. „We have no ravens, means we'd send two or three scouts climbing over to inform the camp of the delay... and there are only four elves that could do that."

„We don't know yet if the fastest way to go around it will be the top or the bottom-" Dalish frowned.

„They'd count on us splitting our forces to go either way, so one part of the party reaches the camp faster...", Skinner added for consideration.

„Also, if we go around it from below an ambusher could trigger a second slide", Rocky huffed.

„IF it is an ambush", Varric said. „If not we're wasting precious time."

„Time we might not have." Solas put down his empty cup. „Politics work fast. Without the Herald Haven is lacking one of it's most important heads. Cullen, Leliana and Josephine are doing well on their own, but still- it will slow them down if Samil isn't there to have the last word, since their voices have the same weight. Most matters aren't a double sided scale that only needs tipping in one direction. The three of them have very different ways of handling things..."

„Keeping the Herald from reaching Haven could give one of our enemies an advantage we might not be aware of right now", Cassandra lost the last of her appetite.

„We must go West, one way or another." Samil's food was equally untouched.

„We could go South to the Hinterlands, crossing through Crestwood. We'll find a raven on our way, so we could send word and curb any potential damage. The Hinterlands are safer now, especially for a bigger party... With the loot from the dragon we should be able to pay for mounts," Stitches cogitated and Grim nodded slowly to that.

„But what if they plan to guide us through Crestwood on purpose? We'd have to circumvent in the East. That way would probably cost us weeks." Cassandra rubbed her temple.

„We can't get West, the road is blocked. South or East it is, through Crestwood or around it", Varric shrugged, emptying his cup.

„There is another way to go around the landslide, without risking a trap." Samil rose and looked down to the shore line, where old boats lay covered in sand. „We'll go ****North****."


End file.
